


Dean Looks Really Pleased to See Him

by FrancesHouseman



Series: Dreams and Fantasies [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dream Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-05
Updated: 2013-08-05
Packaged: 2017-12-22 12:46:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/913391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrancesHouseman/pseuds/FrancesHouseman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Kevin won't wake up Sam thinks immediately of dream root because it has been on his mind so much recently.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dean Looks Really Pleased to See Him

 

 

When they finally get past the steel airlocked door Kevin is just lying there on his bed. He’s warm and breathing but no amount of shaking and slapping will wake him up. Sam thinks immediately of dream root because it has been on his mind so much recently.

 

Dean carries Kevin to the Impala and they divide the work with the fluidity and efficiency afforded by their long term partnership: Sam heads out to procure the root; Dean takes Kevin back to the Batcave.

 

Dean is strangely reluctant to take the root, strengthening Sam’s conviction that there was more unpleasantness last time than Dean ever let on about. Dean is usually all about jumping in Gung Ho before Sam gets a chance to risk life and limb. He usually protects Sam like a mother bear, recently going so far as to check on Sam at night in his bedroom, like he’s four or something. There’s no time to dwell on it though, and Sam takes the cup to his room, leaving Dean to worry over Kevin where he has been arranged on the couch. He knocks back the foul tasting stuff with a grimace and wonders vaguely what Dean has to hide.

 

Sam is in Kevin’s polished suburban living room, wooden floors and natural colors on the walls. There are large windows but the blinds are all closed, daylight seeping around the edges. Sam parts the slats to see what’s out there and shouts in horror, dropping the blind and backing into the middle of the room. The thing pressed up against the window was a demon but it had looked almost rabid, black eyes stretched impossibly wide and blood dripping from its snarling mouth.

 

He leaves the other blinds in place and jogs into the hallway calling Kevin’s name softly. There are thumping and rustling noises upstairs and Sam follows them to Kevin’s bedroom. The door is shut and locked. The upstairs blinds are closed too and Sam can’t resist twitching the corridor blind to check for more demons. Apparently demons belong on the lower level though: up here there is an angel pressed to the window, hands, wings and face pressing against the glass, eyes darting and wide, hair actually flaming. It’s just as terrifying to look at as the demon.

 

Sam breaks the door down because Kevin won’t let him in. He’s sitting amongst a pile of study notes and folders muttering and frantically riffling through, obviously looking for something in particular. He mentions conic sections and the structure of Hell and Sam thinks that maybe he should help. He thinks that maybe it is a good thing that he’s here in Kevin’s dream, rather than Dean.

 

Kevin doesn’t acknowledge him properly until they find the chapter in Advanced Mathematics and he has read it through twice. Then he looks up weakly offering a small smile of apology to Sam, says, “Okay then,” and pops out of existence, just like that.

 

Job done. Sam can wake up too now but he’s curious to see whether the angels and demons have disappeared with Kevin. The upstairs windows show only a burnt orange sunset and by the time he gets downstairs there is only night time. This doesn’t surprise Sam: his dreams are usually dark, and this is his dream now, he supposes. Quick on the heels of that thought is Dean’s arrival because no dream of Sam’s controlling would be any fun otherwise. Dean looks really pleased to see him and Sam smirks; he knows how this goes. He’s had this dream before. Besides, the Real Dean will be busy with Kevin for a while yet.

 

Sam stalks across and fists Dean’s jacket in his hands, shoving him back against a wall and mashing their mouths together. Dean lets out a little yelp of surprise and makes a feeble pretense at shoving Sam away. So it’s going to be one of those dreams is it? Dean torn between guilt and longing, Sam making him forget the former so thoroughly that Dean becomes as corrupt as Sam, begging and panting filthy curses into Sam’s mouth. He kisses harder, forcing his tongue into every part of Dean’s mouth, reclaiming it. He really wants to get to the begging part.

 

He tears Dean’s shirt apart, buttons flying, and bends to mouth and lick at his chest and belly. He’s getting better at this because Dean’s scent and presence are more realistic than ever. Sam wrenches open Dean’s jeans, yanks his briefs down and swallows down his hard and delicious cock. He looks up at Dean, holding the head in his mouth, pressing his tongue along the underside. Dean looks wrecked, almost panicked, plump lips hanging open, chest heaving. Sam smiles around him and sets to work, squeezing a thigh and cupping his balls, loving the feel of blood and precome rushing under the skin in his mouth. He milks and twists with his lips, rubs with his tongue and Dean starts to moan but no begging is forthcoming so he pulls back and grins up at his brother. “Yeah, come on Dean, let me hear you beg. Love it when you beg.”

 

He takes Dean back down, feels the rushing and twitching of Dean’s cock with his tongue, loves it. It’s more frequent now and Dean has his hands in Sam’s hair, his hips pumping gently and erratically. Dean moans, “Sammy Sammy Sammy,” in a strange broken voice and Sam clamps a hand at the base of one of Dean’s buttocks and squeezes _hard_. And one moment Dean is coming, shooting hot delicious spunk down his throat, and the next moment he is gone and Sam falls headlong into the light terracotta wall, cock rock hard and twitching, trapped in his jeans.

 

He comes to, a hand halfway to his crotch before noticing Dean’s very real presence on his bed. Dean’s eyes are closed but Sam knows he’s awake. Oh God. “Dean I… Did we just…?”

 

Dean sits up sharply, turning away from Sam but not before Sam sees the tears running from the corners of Dean’s eyes into his hair. “Sorry,” he chokes, and then again in a cracked whisper, “Sorry Sammy.”

 

“Dean no,” but Dean is pushing off the bed and escaping through his bedroom door. “It was my dream!” he shouts. The only reply is the slam of the bathroom door.

 

Sam has just forced himself on his very real brother, or, well, his very real brother’s dream projection of himself or something. There had been a yearning there though, that Dean has never let him see before. Sam should feel sorry for the terrible guilt and shame that Dean will be feeling right now, even though Dean had been more or less a dream victim of Sam’s demonic appetite. The only thing Sam can feel is a dizzying awe that maybe Dean wants him too, that maybe Dean has been harboring the same twisted version of love that he has, and if Dean has allowed himself to acknowledge it, in spite of the guilt, then it must be powerful indeed. Sam is so turned on he thinks he might combust. All it takes to get him there is the thought of Dean’s spunk bursting onto his tongue and a few pulls on his cock, hand shoved into his jeans.

 

He waits for his heart rate to slow back down and shivers with contradicting feelings of relief, his body satisfied, and anticipation: they’re going to have to talk about this.

  
  



End file.
